In the following days, life at the manor drifted by in a strange, heavy silence. Both Vena and Kane maintained an air of nonchalance, showing not a single trace of surveillance or scrutiny. This implicit freedom felt like a haughty declaration from Silas: either Tess was a creature so insignificant that she didn't warrant his caution, or he was intentionally loosening the leash, casually watching her attempts to draw closer as if it were a novel amusement.
If one could peel away the layers of danger and the ghosts of his past, Silas was truly a mesmerizing being. After only two brief encounters, his calm composure and sharp, refined beauty had planted an irresistible infatuation in Tess's heart. The fact that Silas hadn't expressed any disdain for her clumsy schemes sparked a fragile glimmer of hope about some distant potential between them.
That morning, Tess stood lost in her own reflection in the mirror. She was satisfied with her beauty, currently at its most radiant peak, and her mind drifted so far into distant fantasies that she completely forgot the feeding time for the creatures in the greenhouse. Still clutching the small mirror in her hand, she hurried downstairs to where Vena was coordinating the maids.
Vena gave a slight, dismissive nod in greeting, but the housekeeper's sharp eyes quickly caught Tess's distracted air and the object clutched in her hand. Since Tess now fell under Kane's direct management, Vena refrained from intervening too deeply. However, as soon as the other maids turned away, she leaned in slightly and dropped a reminder—effortless yet bone-chilling:
"Do not delude yourself with things far beyond your reach."
Vena's words were like a bucket of ice water splashed against reality, instantly extinguishing her budding fantasies. Tess froze, a wave of shame spreading through her chest, yet in her heart, she felt a silent gratitude toward Vena for pulling her back from the abyss of vanity. She walked slowly toward the greenhouse, her hands trembling as she scattered feed for the animals, mentally berating herself for allowing fleeting emotions to override her reason so easily.
Under Kane's watchful eye, Tess continued the training protocol for the beasts as dictated by the instructional manual. Kane stood there, as motionless as a statue carved from discipline and suspicion. He understood perfectly well the extraordinary power coursing through Tess's veins, but he also held a strict rule: no exceptions for abilities. Within the training grounds, every command had to be conveyed through physical sequence—with whips and whistles—rather than invisible waves of thought. Tess complied in silence. She understood that Kane's caution was not merely a duty; behind it lay clear, meticulous plans born from the direct teachings of Silas.
During every break, Tess slowly approached the animals. She would gently stroke their heads with her slender hands, her eyes filled with the tender affection of an elder sister soothing her younger siblings. Yet, beneath that veneer of doting care lay a silent infiltration. Her true ability—the power to read the memories and emotions of animals through touch—remained a dark zone that even the most sophisticated surveillance systems could not penetrate.
However, information regarding Silas remained as murky as the mist over the deadlands. The sheer number of animals here made it impossible for her to scan them all, and the powerful man himself rarely set foot in this area. Silas was a flickering ghost, an enigma that Tess was desperate to decipher.
Leaving the training grounds, Tess sought out the library—the sole oasis of knowledge within the frigid manor. Silas was a perfectionist to an extreme; the room and the bookshelves remained orderly and cold, as if no human had ever been there, despite her knowing for a fact he had been present the day before. Not a speck of dust was disturbed; not a single book spine was a millimeter out of place.
Yet, upon the heavy mahogany table, a book remained. Since Tess was currently the only person permitted to enter this library, all cleaning protocols were suspended unless she was involved. Driven by curiosity, she lightly flipped open the page he had been reading and immediately felt her chest tighten. A sudden heat flushed up to her ears: it was an erotic novel, graphically depicting sexual relations.
In this post-apocalyptic world, works of pure love no longer exist; survival and self-interest have strangled all romantic values, and sex is nothing more than a form of commodity or a primal mode of entertainment. Tess hastily closed the book and returned it to its original spot, her mind a chaotic whirl of thoughts. Was this merely the personal preference of a powerful, mature man, or was it a cryptic message—a deliberate provocation he had left behind for her?
Fear quickly overwhelmed her flickering spark of curiosity. Tess moved toward the shelf she had just visited and realized the entire cabinet was filled with similar publications.
After a internal struggle, Tess took a deep breath. She pulled several books down, carefully memorizing their exact positions before bringing them to the table. Under the library's sallow light, she began to flip through the pages, her eyes fixed on the text with an eerily serious intensity. It wasn't entirely out of curiosity, nor was it solely because of Silas; her intuition whispered that within these carnal lines, perhaps she might find something she would need in the future.
By the time Tess left the library, it was already late at night. She returned to her bedroom but found it impossible to sleep. Her mind raced with a mixture of dread, curiosity, and trepidation—thoughts of sex, of Silas, and how it would feel if she were truly to face him in such a manner one day. She had only ever wished to become his mistress out of a deep-seated desire for the independence and power he could grant, but she had never considered her own feelings when actually confronting him. Could love ever emerge between two people separated by such a vast divide? Could she ever be an exception in his eyes? Though she knew these were all foolish thoughts, she could not suppress the emotions that kept her mind spinning in circles.
That night, Tess could not find sleep. But no matter how much she tossed and turned, she knew it was unwise to go downstairs for a stroll. Regardless of her current standing, reality remained a constant reminder that she was merely a slave in this manor. Nighttime was for rest, a period reserved for the housekeeper and the guards on watch—not a time for a slave to be wandering about. Tess stepped toward the window and flung it open to catch a bit of the night breeze. Spring had not yet ended, but in this post-apocalyptic world with its mangled ozone layer, the wind no longer carried a sweet scent. The major cities were now clusters of towering, sealed spires, built to block out the lethal ultraviolet radiation. As humanity retreated into the shadows, the surviving animals had also begun to alter their habits, prowling through every nook and cranny to forage under the cover of night.
Tess silently watched the nocturnal birds as they skillfully darted through the gaps in the window frame. Inadvertently, she intercepted their communicative signals regarding a strange man standing outside the villa's entrance. Though she could not discern his face beneath the deep violet shroud of night, his silhouette and bearing bore a striking resemblance to Silas. Does he often come here secretly at night? Tess wondered, her mind clouded with uncertainty. However, she had absolutely no intention of going down. Even if it were by chance, encountering Silas at this hour would undoubtedly spark undue suspicion in a man as cynical as he.
The next morning, Tess woke up on schedule as usual. Her first destination was the library. She set about her cleaning routine, taking the opportunity to read professional texts to bolster her knowledge for tending to the creatures in the greenhouse, all while discreetly observing her surroundings. She searched for any sign that Silas had indeed been there the night before. Yet, there was nothing. If he had stopped by in a hurry to find a book, he fundamentally wouldn't have had the time to tidy up. In all likelihood, he had not come at all.
Afraid of wasting time, Tess hurried to the greenhouse. Today, she had intentionally chosen an all-black outfit—matching the color Silas had worn the night before. This was a calculated move on her part.
Based on the principle of Context-Dependent Memory, Tess understood that a wolf's brain, though only seeing the world in shades of blue and yellow, is exceptionally sensitive to shapes and black-and-white contrast (Grayscale). The solid black of her clothes acted as a Priming Effect for their visual senses. As she approached the pack, the combination of the black attire characteristic of Silas and the lingering scent molecules he had left in the air from the previous night triggered a powerful "associative shock" within their nervous systems.
The moment her hand touched the alpha wolf, Tess's ability ignited with unprecedented intensity. Without the need to search or sift through data, the memories of Silas from the night before flashed vividly like a slow-motion film: Silas had indeed stood right here, silently observing the beasts with a cold, piercing gaze. The truth was clear; he had been here. Tess meticulously committed every single word and action of his to her memory.